


Day 21: Laced Drink

by evilwriter37



Series: Whumptober 2019 [21]
Category: DreamWorks Dragons (Cartoon), How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Drugging, Gen, Heather!whump, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-27 16:37:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21121913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evilwriter37/pseuds/evilwriter37
Summary: Heather decides to stay at an inn for a few nights, but someone slips something into her drink.





	Day 21: Laced Drink

It wasn’t often that Heather talked to people, not even when she was at an inn, but the man who was running it that night seemed to be very nice, and he was about her age, maybe a few years older. Heather sat at the bar, chatting with him, even finding herself laughing. It had been a long time since she’d done that.

Heather had wanted a real bed for a few nights. She had her camp with Windshear, but it grew uncomfortable every once in a while, and she was always on the move. She’d found her way near civilization, and had wandered into this inn. Windshear was on the far side of the island, away from any humans. She was untrustworthy of them, as was Heather, but sometimes, the call for a real bed and a break from her isolation hit her. Windshear had been reluctant to say goodbye, but Heather knew she could take care of herself for a few days. She was far from the hurt and helpless fledgling that she had been when Heather had found her.

“You know, I never caught your name,” Heather said to the bartender. Or maybe he was even the innkeeper.

“Oh, I’m Bran,” he said. There was a cheerful twinkle in his blue eyes. He leaned his arms on the counter. There seemed to be something flirtatious about his demeanor. “My father’s ill tonight so I’m running the inn for now. Don’t think our usual customers are ever as pretty as you though.”

Heather blushed. Yes, definitely flirtatious. 

“Oh, uh, thank you.” She wasn’t used to being complimented. A few years of isolation would do that to someone. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a real conversation with a human that was more than just buying something. 

Heather went to take a sip of her ale, but found that the mug was empty. She put it back down, and found that Bran was swapping it out for her.

“Oh, I didn’t order another one.”

He smiled. “This one’s free of charge. Drinking something off your shoulders?”

“I guess you could say that.”

“Is it a man?” Bran asked.

Heather didn’t know if she liked him prying like this. Or, maybe that was just how people made conversation. She couldn’t quite remember.

“The absolute worst,” Heather answered. That wasn’t necessarily a lie. Dagur the Deranged  _ was  _ the worst man out there, to her knowledge. He’d come and wiped out her village, and she still didn’t know why. Maybe she could ask him before she killed him. 

Bran didn’t ask her anymore about that. He left to serve a few tables, then came back. Heather was still nursing her new ale. She was feeling kind of sleepy, her head fogged with it. She supposed her exhaustion had just caught up to her.

“So, what brings you into town? You staying long?”

“Just for a few days,” Heather said. “I usually stay away from people but I just wanted a warm bed.”

“Oh, a traveler then. Got any interesting stories?”

Heather shrugged. She doubted anyone would appreciate hearing about how she’d saved a baby dragon and befriended it instead of killing it. People were always so hostile towards dragons, as she had been until she’d met Hiccup and his friends. Astrid flickered to her mind. She missed her a lot, couldn’t help wondering what she looked like now. 

“Come on, there’s gotta be something.”

“Well, I’m hunting somebody,” Heather said. Maybe Bran could give her information. A lot of people probably came through here. “A man by the name of Dagur. Red hair, kind of manic. Know anything?”

“Why would someone like you be hunting a man?”

“Don’t pretend you know anything about me,” Heather snipped. Bran’s friendliness was actually starting to get on her nerves. Or maybe it’s because of how tired she was. Wow. She most definitely hadn’t realized just how exhausted she was upon coming in here. Her brain felt like it was stuffed with cotton. After she got any information out of Bran, she would go to bed. And lock her door, of course.

Bran raised his hands defensively. “Okay, okay, sorry. I don’t think I know anything about this Dagur fellow though.”

_ Dammit. _

Heather rose, nearly spilling her drink was she did so. She found her knees shaking, and she almost toppled, but suddenly found herself in Bran’s arms. Distrust spiked in her brain.

“Whoa, easy there. Must have had too much to drink.”

“I-I’m not a lightweight,” Heather got out. Her tongue felt thick.

“Let’s get you to your room.”

Heather couldn’t really argue with that, but she didn’t want his help, wanted to get there on her own. She shoved herself away from him, but fell onto the floor the instant she was without her support. Something other than exhaustion was going on. 

Then, in her fogged brain she realized the awful truth. She’d been drugged. Bran had drugged her. It had to have been him. He’d given her the drinks, had been too friendly and flirtatious with her. Heather knew with a horrible clarity, that he was going to take her back to her room and rape her.

The man scooped her off the floor, and Heather fought him. She got onto her knees, drew a knife on him, scrambling back. She wanted to yell for him to get away, but her mouth was hardly working.

“Whoa, easy there. I’m just trying to take you to bed.” Bran approached, but Heather stabbed with the knife, and he jumped back.

“You drugged me,” she slurred out. “Get… away…”

Now she was drawing the attention of other patrons. An elderly man stepped over, looking concerned, but Heather didn’t know who for. Did he even know what was going on?

“What’s the trouble, Bran?”

“Well, I’m trying to take this young lady to her room because she drank too much, but she pulled a knife on me.”

“Liar!” Heather managed to cry out. She stumbled to her feet, put her back to the wall. “Y-you drugged me!”

“Now, young lady, I’m sure this is just a misunderstanding,” the old man said, approaching carefully. 

Heather shook her head. “B-both of you… get away… from me.”

Before anyone could say anything else, she was stumbling out the door and onto the street, knife still drawn. She couldn’t trust anybody. No, not a single soul. 

Heather made it a few blocks before she collapsed in an alleyway. Her knife fell from weakened fingers, and her face was on hard dirt.

“No…” she moaned. She didn’t want to lose consciousness here. Anything could happen to her out here. “Windshear,” she got out. That was her last word before consciousness slipped from her fingers.

  
  


Heather woke to a dragon licking her face. Her head ached horribly, and it took her a while to work up the will to open her eyes. She squinted from sunlight glaring through the leaves in the trees.

Trees? What? Hadn’t she fallen asleep in some alleyway in town?

Heather looked to see that Windshear was curled protectively around her. She was looking at her, blinking her intelligent eyes, waiting for some vocal response.

“Windshear,” Heather breathed in relief. She rubbed at her snout with a shaky hand. “What happened?”

Her dragon answered, but of course Heather couldn’t really understand it. She was able to figure out what must have happened though. Windshear had snuck into town looking for her, had found her, and brought her back to their camp. 

“Thank you, Windshear.” Heather wrapped her arms around her neck and hugged her. She was safe because of her dragon. Nothing bad had happened to her, despite being drugged by a stranger.

“Okay, I’m never going to an inn or tavern again,” Heather said. She’d paid money just to have her drink laced with something. “I promise.”


End file.
